The cellist's hand br waits outside the music br br pauses br beside his instrument br br like an exotic fish br br steadying itself br in the flow of the music br br before dashing out br from behind a glowing coral br br eagerly snapping up br the little notes that swim by br br at his head br his cello bobs br br like a seahorse br questioning br br all that is br happening br br as he tries to enter br the same stream br br (despite Heraclitus's advice) br br .. twice. br ******* br For 3 wonderful nights over Christmas in the Chiesa San Vidal in Venice we watched with delight the cello playing of Nazzareno Balduin of the Interpreti Veneziani. His body transformed itself into the music as he played with such gusto and grace. This poem was written in praise of him in the still moment before he entered a piece...his hand floating in the air...stroking the music and taming it. Even when not playing he was playing! And doing so...so beautifully! So...